


Stockholm Syndrome

by AngelaCake



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Punishment, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1809331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelaCake/pseuds/AngelaCake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon Salvatore had a good life, until he was forced into slavery for the vampire community. He is sold to the cold and unforgiving Elena Gilbert, and he makes it clear that he will not make this relationship an easy one. Initially he hates her. But as he sees her compassion and kindness, can he look past his anger at his new situation and find love and acceptance he never expected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductory Statements

**Author's Note:**

> So I've seen a lot of fics where Elena is forced to be Damon's slave, and while I really liked them, I've yet to see one the other way around. Considering he'll do practically anything she asks him to (as long as she says please), I really wanted to see that. So why not write it? I intend for this to have as many twists and turns as the show itself (okay maybe not that many). 
> 
> Also, all the characters in the tags are on their way, but in the first chapter its just Damon and Elena (and a little Ric). The Archive Warnings however I will add as they happen.

Damon sat on the hard wooden bench, glaring at the bare floor. The cart creaked as it jostled his hands back against his thighs, but he refused to acknowledge the manacles biting harshly into his wrists. He sat ramrod straight in the cramped space, ignoring the chains binding his wrists and ankles to the wall of the cabin. Though he’d been traveling for hours, his posture had never changed. He was Damon Salvatore, dammit! He wasn’t going to slump in his cage like some kind of animal.  
The cart jerked to a halt and the back doors opened. A dour looking man grabbed Damon’s chains and yanked him to his feet. He dragged him around to the front of the cart and shoved him toward the porch of a large house. Damon stumbled but caught himself, and finally got a look at his destination. The house was huge, more of a manor. It had at least three stories. The porch had large white columns and a bench swing, and seemed to wrap around the ends of the building. A tall man stood in the doorway. He had messy brown hair and kind eyes. He nodded at the cart driver, who turned back to his cart and drove off. Damon straightened and looked the man in the eye.  
“Well?” he challenged. “Are you my new owner?” The man burst into laughter, shaking his head.  
“No,” he replied, grabbing Damon’s chains and pulling him up the stairs into the house. “I’m just the guy who brings you to your new owner.”  
As the man led him through the house, Damon began to grow increasingly uneasy. He looked around for clues as to who his “master” would be. He understood from the marketplace that he was being sold as a slave. What he didn’t understand was how. The furniture in the manor was cozy, typical of a modern middle class home. The walls were painted in plain colors. As they strode down a hall on the right side of the building, Damon glimpsed a girl in a faded brown dress taking sheets from a closet. She caught Damon watching her and averted her eyes, quickly scurrying away. After a few more turns in the hallway, they finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The man took out a set of keys and unlocked Damon’s chains.  
“Be nice,” he warned, pushing the door open. Damon’s eyes widened in surprise the moment he entered.  
Behind a somewhat large desk sat a young girl, legs crossed, waiting patiently. Damon was unsure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. For one thing, the girl couldn’t have been older than 19. For another, she was the most beautiful girl Damon had ever seen. The blue tanktop she wore exposed smooth olive skin, and her dark hair cascaded past her shoulders in soft waves. She regarded Damon through shrewd amber eyes, her lips pursed as she looked him up and down.  
“Thank you, Ric. That will be all,” she called in an authoritative voice, her narrowed eyes never leaving Damon. The man, Ric, nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. The girl stood and walked towards Damon. Her voice and stride displayed a confidence at odds with her apparent age.  
“The rules of this house are simple, and I expect you to follow them closely,” she informed him. “You will be ready for the day at six every morning, and you will retire to your room at 11 every night.” She spoke slowly as she circled him. “You have half an hour for each meal, and you will eat what is given to you in the kitchens. Your possessions consist of only what I allow you. You will attend to your responsibilities diligently, quietly, and consistently, you will act with absolute respect to your superiors, mainly myself, Ric, and any guests I may have, and you will complete every task given to you immediately.”  
She paused as she came to a stop in front of him. “What is your name?”  
“Damon.”  
“Very well, Damon. You can refer to me as Master, Mistress, Ma’am, or Ms. Gilbert.”  
Oh, can I? Damon thought, rolling his eyes. “Don’t test me, Damon. You will never roll your eyes at me again. You will also stop glaring at me.”  
Damon narrowed his eyes. “Or what?” he spat.  
A loud crack echoed through the room as Damon’s head whipped to the right. He raised his hand to his jaw, feeling to see if her slap had dislocated it. It hadn't, thankfully, though it certainly felt like it had enough force to.  
“Impudence, and any and all transgressions, will be punished swiftly. You should keep your eyes down, unless I instruct you otherwise. Is that understood?”  
Damon felt his anger surge. “I’ll take orders from you the day I die, you arrogant bitch.”  
He barely had time to register her reaching for him before he was slammed back into the wall, the force snapping his head back so it clipped one of the heavy picture frames. His knees buckled, but the girl’s hold on his neck kept him up. Her slim fingers dug into his throat, closing off his windpipe. Damon grabbed at her hand, gasping for breath, as she leaned close to stare him in the eyes. Her sweet brown eyes were now a glaring blood red, and dark veins blossomed across her cheeks. She bared her fangs at him.  
“You will take orders from me until the day you die. I own you, Damon. If you disrespect me again, I will beat you within an inch of your life and you will consider it mercy, because that life is mine, and I could end it instead. It is well within my rights to kill you and buy a replacement. It would be more hassle, so it’s your choice whether or not to make that hassle is worth it. Do you understand?”  
Black spots began to swim before Damon’s eyes and he struggled to nod his head. “I understand,” he managed to choke out. She released him and he sank to the ground, greedily gulping air into his burning lungs. His master placed her foot on his shoulder blade, shoving him down face-first into the floor.  
“What is it you understand, Damon?” she asked coolly. He was silent, until she ground her sharp heel into his shoulder, pressing him further into the carpet. Tears burned in his eyes. Damon gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride.  
“You own me. I will obey you. I will respect you. I will do anything you ask me to. I am yours.”  
She nodded, accepting his submission, and reached down to pull Damon to his feet. He staggered up and pushed her away, brushing himself off and holding back tears of shame.  
“Ric will lead you to your room. You’ll find your new clothes there. Come to my office tomorrow to receive your list of chores. You may go.” He headed for the door, avoiding her eyes. “And Damon?” He paused for a moment with his hand on the door. “I hope it goes without saying, but if you try to escape, I will make you regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to get more violent. Damon really doesn't want to play by the rules!  
> I know Elena acts a little OOC in this scene, but she needs to make a major impression if she wants the new meat to behave. I promise the next chapter will be much longer. This is just their first meeting.
> 
> Please Read and Review! It feeds me and enables me to continue writing.


	2. Stirring Up Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, to be fair, all the violence actually happens next chapter, so this chapter just has some mature (and mildly misogynistic) language. This chapter is a little longer than the first. And guess who shows up for Damon's first day?

When Damon woke up the next morning, it took him a moment to realize where he was. He blinked at the gray concrete above him, trying to figure out why he wasn’t in his king-sized bed at home.

“Are you going to get up mate? Or are you just going to stare at the ceiling some more?”

Damon jumped at of the melodic voice, turning to look for the source. A short man stood at the foot of the small cot that now qualified as Damon’s bed, smirking down at him. He’d been so absorbed in his inner turmoil last night that he hadn’t noticed the second bed in the room. The man was already dressed and looked wide awake. He had long brown hair tied back and his dark eyes glittered in amusement. He spoke again in a thick british accent.

“I thought you might never wake up. You’re going to want to get ready, fast. You’ve only got a few minutes before she’ll be wanting you. Wouldn’t want to disappoint her, considering you’re already in the doghouse.”

“And you are?” Damon sat up, scrutinizing his seemingly well-meaning roommate. His back twinged and Damon flinched, realizing he probably had bruises from hitting the wall. He looked around. The walls of the room were bare concrete and the door was thick metal. The room itself was so narrow that there was just barely room for a dresser squeezed between the two cots. It was more of a cell than a room. The other man sighed.

“Name’s Enzo. And you don’t need to be suspicious, I’m not some kind of spy. I know you’re in trouble from the state of your neck. Elena’s rough on newcomers, but she doesn’t usually mark us in such obvious places.” Enzo’s smirk returned. “You must have really pissed her off.”

“Elena?” Damon’s voice came out hoarse, and he rubbed at his neck, jerking his hand away when he grazed the deep purple bruises. _Crap_ , he thought. He was just banged up all over.

“Her name,” Enzo clarified. “Elena Gilbert. From here on in, your lord and master. Bet you’re excited.”

Damon rolled his eyes. A bundle of cloth smacked him in the face. He pulled it off and examined it. The bundle was actually two pieces of clothing. The first was a much-too-large brown button-down shirt, and the second was a pair of matching pants. It was the same as Enzo wore. Damon picked at the ragged hem of the rough shirt. They would do for now, but there was no way he would wear them again. He had to find something better.

“Go on, you better change. We’ll talk more later.”

\- - - - -

 

Damon retraced the path Ric had led him down the previous night. His tiny room was one of six branching off a hall in the stark basement. There was a dirty communal bathroom at one end and steep staircase at the other. When Damon emerged from the narrow stairs he found himself once again in the cozy surroundings of the manor proper. He passed by a spacious entry hall and a messy family room on his way to the office on the other side of the building, but nothing struck him as an escape route. He’d have to keep a closer eye out. He knocked twice on the door when he reached it, entering without hearing a reply.

This time, Damon actually paid attention to the office itself. There were several bookcases lining the walls, shelves packed with titles, both well-known and obscure. The large desk sat facing the door. There were two large windows behind it, framed by gauzy white curtains. The middle of the room was covered by a lush red carpet with an organic design. Elena sat at the desk, exactly the same as last night. She looked up as Damon as he entered.

“I didn’t say come in.” Damon bit back a harsh reply. It wasn’t worth getting even more banged up. He’d just have to be polite. “My apologies, Ms. Gilbert.”

Elena nodded in acceptance. “I see you found your clothes.”

“They don’t fit.” Damon glared at her, as if she had intentionally given him an ill-fitting shirt. Okay, maybe not that polite. Elena gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“That’s not my problem. And I believe we discussed glaring. Do you need a reminder?”

Damon shook his head stiffly. She smiled. “Good.”

She pulled a sheet of paper from a drawer and flattened it out on the desk. “You and Enzo are responsible for scrubbing every inch of the second and third floors of this building. I expect every room to be spotless any time I step into one. Your lunch will be waiting for you in the kitchens every day at one. Don’t be late. You don’t have long to eat. If I have any guests over, you are not to be seen or heard. Enzo and Ric will tell you the rest.”

She held out the paper to him. “This is your exact list of chores. Take it and go.”

Damon felt his bile rise after such a brusque dismissal. He was a human being. There should be more ceremony to losing all of his freedoms. She waved the paper at him, growing impatient. Damon scowled and snatched the paper out of her hand and stormed out of the room.

\- - - - -

 

Damon grunted as he vigorously scrubbed the hardwood floor. The second level of the manor was just as large as the first, except the halls twisted and turned in a far more labyrinthine arrangement. This meant more corners, and that meant more dust, and Damon found that halfway through his first day he already wanted to throw his bucket out the window. The long edges of his shirt kept getting in the way of the brush and falling into the suds, so Damon had to roll the soaking edges of his sleeves above his elbow. Plus, he’d barely scrubbed anything a day in his life and he was sure he was doing it wrong. He looked up at the long stretch of hallway before him. In the past five hours he had made his way through two rooms and three hallways and he still had more than twice that to go. He sat back and groaned.

“Giving up already?” Damon looked up. Enzo stood in the doorway of the nearest guest bedroom. “Just about to. She expects us to do another floor on top of this?”

Enzo’s smirk made another appearance. “It gets easier. You’re new here. You’ll get faster. And it can’t help that your room hasn’t been touched since Jesse disappeared.”

Damon jerked his head up. “Disappeared? The guy before me disappeared?”

“Yep. Vanished in the middle of the night. Nice enough bloke, but I thought he was a tad too friendly with all the vampires. Guess that came back to bite him.” Damon smiled in appreciation and Enzo reached out a hand to help him up. “Come on, It’s about time we headed to lunch.”

\- - - - -

 

“ _This_ is lunch?” Damon gaped at the lumpy brownish mush and chunk of stale bread sitting on the plate in front of him. Enzo clapped him on the shoulder.

“At least we’re getting fed.” Damon picked up a spoonful, eyeing the viscous mass. His lip curled in disgust. “I think I’d rather not be.”

Enzo chuckled, sitting down and picking up a utensil. “This isn’t one of their finest, I’ll admit, but believe me, it could be worse.”

Damon scowled. He pulled out the metal stool and took his seat at the counter, muttering to himself. Enzo had already started eating, and when Damon became certain he wasn’t going to keel over and die, he took a tentative bite. He grimaced at the taste, but his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since he was shipped to market the previous day, so he powered through. He actually managed to choke down half the glop before he had to stop for the sake of his sanity. God he wished he was allowed to make his own food. Enzo began to whistle a tune.

“How are you okay with all this?” Damon asked. “You live in a tiny room, you work to exhaustion every day for an inhuman bitch, and you eat crap. How can you be so fucking happy?”

Enzo glanced at him. His mouth quirked back up into another smirk. For once, he didn’t look like he was laughing at Damon. It was more like he knew something Damon didn’t.

“First of all,” he began softly, “I wouldn’t use those words so loudly. She has excellent hearing, our Elena, and she won’t be very happy. And second of all.” He looked Damon in the eyes, searching for something. “Like I said, it’s not as bad as it could be. She is not as bad as you think she is. She can be harsh, but only if you give her reason to be. We would all be a lot worse off in someone else’s care.”

Damon narrowed his eyes. “We’re not in her care. She _owns_ us.We’d be better off in our own care.”

The return of the smirk. Enzo didn’t even reply, just clapped Damon on the shoulder again and stood up. “Try looking at the world another way, Damon. Try to see the forest, not the trees.”

\- - - - -

 

As Damon and Enzo passed the main hall on their way back to work, the front door flew open and a blonde whirlwind raced past them. Damon stopped in his tracks, tracking with his eyes as the blonde blur careened into the living room and crashed right into a waiting Elena. The hurricane formed into a tall girl even younger than Elena, wrapping her arms around Damon’s master and squealing with the high-pitched intensity of a screeching train.

“Elena! Oh my god! It has been forever since I’ve seen you! That is such a crime, why did you go all radio silence on me? You will so not believe what slutty Sophie has been doing.”

As Blondie spoke she slipped off her jacket and looked around the room. Damon suddenly felt Enzo gripping his arm hard. Enzo yanked Damon back into motion, down the hall and toward the stairs, hissing a warning in his ear. “When Elena has guests we get scarce. Hurry.”

“You!” Damon’s blood froze. Enzo looked at him, eyes wide. Damon turned to find Elena’s excitable friend pointing at him and holding out her jacket. “Take my coat and get me an iced tea. Three ice cubes in a tall glass. Unsweetened. With two sugars. Now.”

Damon looked to Elena. who pursed her lips and nodded. He moved forward warily, taking the coat from her hands and looking around.

“Quickly!” Blondie snapped, before turning back to her friend. Damon scoffed at her dismissal and shot her a glare, only to intercept one from Elena. It clearly said _Behave_. Damon pursed his lips together and looked for a closet.

\- - - - -

 

“Dear God! What is taking so long with that iced tea? It’s not freaking rocket science.” Elena rolled her eyes at her friend’s complaint.

“He’s new,” she explained. “If you had asked me, Caroline, I could have sent one who knew his way around.”

Caroline sighed. “Fine. I got a little impatient. Maybe you could call Jesse down here and ask him to take over?”

Elena’s breath caught in her throat. “Jesse, uh . . . isn’t here anymore.” Caroline gave her a weird look.

“Then where is he?” Elena tried to swallow past her dry mouth. “I sold him. I’ve been really busy trying to find his replacement. That was, uh, Damon, who you ordered to get you a drink. He arrived last night.”

Caroline’s eyes were fixed steadily on Elena. “Uh-huh. And who did you sell Jesse to?”

Elena looked away. “Wes made a really appealing offer-”

“Wes?” Caroline squeaked and shot up out of her seat. “As in Dr. Creepy Maxfield? Didn’t you just-” She cut off her tirade as Damon entered the room with a glass of amber liquid. She glared at Elena, taking the glass without looking at him and snapping her fingers toward the door. “Now get out.”

Damon narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Caroline obliviously picked back up with her indignant lecture. His muscles tightened and Elena realized he was going to say something both of them would regret. She coughed to grab his attention, and gave a minute shake of her head when he glanced at her, staring daggers at him. To her absolute surprise, Damon seemed to size her up before backing down. Was he really weighing if it was worth it to disrespect her friend? Finally, he left the room.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You have a rescue from that sick jerk! You know what he’s like. How could you send Jesse, our friend Elena, off to face that?

Elena sighed. “You know what he’s like too, Care. If he wants something, he’s not going to back down until he gets it.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you give it to him.”

\- - - - -

 

Caroline stayed and chatted for a few hours, then left,  but only after forcing Elena to promise to call more often. Elena retired to her study, running her hands through her long hair as she shuffled through the various papers and receipts. She stopped at the one she wanted and rang for Alaric, staring down at the deed for her newest acquisition. She shouldn’t have made the deal. Jesse was someone she knew. Someone in her care. Damon Salvatore was just a resentful, impudent, unhelpful prick who probably had some anger issues. Why was she feeling this need to protect him? Her contemplations were interrupted by Ric’s knock.

“Come in.” Her personal attendant entered the room and immediately noticed the look on her face. He moved to her side.

“Hey. Is something wrong?” She looked up in surprise.

“I’m- I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you look like you just watched someone kick a puppy. Your puppy.”

“I said I was fine, Ric,” she snapped.

“Okay, okay.” He threw up his hands. “Forget I asked.”

Elena sighed. “Can you send Damon into my office at the end of the day?”

“The new guy, right? Sure, I’ll send him right up.”

Ric turned to go. Just as he reached the door, Elena thought of something.

“And Ric?” He looked back. “Find him some new clothes.”

\- - - - -

 

“This is ridiculous! Blonde super bimbo just waltzes in and suddenly I’m at her beck and call!” Damon scrubbed at the floor like he was trying to tear it up. Enzo laughed beside him.

“Well you are a slave, remember?”

Damon scowled. “Not for long.”

Enzo’s smile slowly dropped from his face.

“And just what do you mean by that?” he asked carefully. Damon lips curled into a smirk of his own.

“Maybe I found something interesting while I was off ‘looking for a closet.’” Enzo eyed the newer slave with a mixture of interest and fear. “Don’t you-”

“Shh!” Enzo grabbed Damon and pulled him close, his voice urgent and low. “Don’t say another word until we are in our room tonight, got it?”

Damon raised an eyebrow, confused, but nodded anyway. Enzo gave a sigh of relief and released him, immediately turning back to the bookshelf he had been wiping down. Damon watched him curiously for a moment before turning back to the floor.

\- - - - -

 

Damon walked down the stark hall toward the dingy communal bathrooms. His and Enzo’s cell was all the way at the other end by the stairs. It would make it easier to sneak out later, but right now he had to kill some time until everyone went to sleep. He had decided to shower. God only knew he could use it. But before he could make it to the bathroom door he heard someone call out his name. The tall man he’d seen on his first day was making his way toward Damon.

“What’s going on, Ric?” he asked, remembering what Elena had called him. Ric reached him and raised an eyebrow.

“Only my friends call me Ric. You call me Alaric, got it? And Elena wants to see you. Now.”

Damon’s blood froze in his veins. Elena wanted to see him? Maybe Enzo was right about her hearing. Maybe she knew he was planning on escaping. What would she do? She was definitely going to punish him. Would she slam him into the wall again? No, that had been a warning. Now she would do something worse. Would she drink his blood? He hoped not. Then again, he hadn’t actually run yet. Enzo said she was only harsh if you gave her a reason to be. Maybe she would just let him know that she knew. No, that was too hopeful. She was a vampire, he was her slave. She needed to keep him in fear of her.

 _If she wants me to be afraid of her, she’ll have to do a lot worse_. Damon shoved his morbid thoughts aside. After all, he had no idea what Elena would want to see him for. For all he knew, she was congratulating him on his expert dusting skills. He flashed Alaric a cocky half-smile. “Well then, we better not keep her waiting. After you.”

Alaric scoffed and headed back up the stairs. Damon tripped as he followed him, cursing the length of his pant legs, but managed catch himself before hitting the ground. Alaric quickly led him out of the basement and past the kitchen, then down the halls toward Elena’s study. He stopped Damon right in front of the door and told him to wait, then went in. He emerged a few seconds later and waved Damon into the office.

Elena stood in front of the desk this time, leaning against it, and once again Damon was struck by how young she was. She looked like a little girl waiting in her parents office. She looked even younger than him! _Like hell she is. She could be a thousand for all I know_ , he chided himself. But she still looked like a teenager. How could someone end up a vampire before they even turned 20? It was kind of sad.

He shook off those thoughts and returned to the situation at hand. “You wanted to see me, Ms. Gilbert?”

“Yes, I did. I wanted to thank you for how well you behaved when Caroline was here earlier. I know you weren’t prepared to serve a guest and today was only your first day, but you held your tongue and did exactly what she asked. It was impressive, and I noticed.” Elena looked at him and picked up a small box.

Damon smiled his most charming smile. “Well, I was only doing what was expected of me, Ms. Gilbert.  I’m happy to serve my master.”

Elena raised an eyebrow at him. Really? Happy to serve the master he had called an ‘inhuman bitch’ at lunch today? She shouldn’t press him on it. He probably just didn’t want to get shoved into the ground again.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” she said, but her skepticism showed on her face. Damon cursed under his breath. He could usually charm anyone, from the vendors at the market to his father’s snobby guests, but she clearly didn’t believe him. He was probably just thrown off by the terrible living conditions, he reasoned. He’d never been this unwashed or underfed in his life. Oh well. It wouldn’t matter after tonight.

She picked up the box again and moved toward him. “As a reward for your… impressive service, I’ve decided to give you a gift.” She reached for Damon’s hand and lifted it between them, taking something from the box and slipping it onto his finger. To his surprise, Damon realized it was a ring. Silver, with Lapis Lazuli and a crest at the center.

“What is this?”

Elena smiled at him. “It’s my family crest. The ring marks you as mine, so other vampires won’t harass you, and it’s one of the only items of value slaves are allowed to have. I thought it would be a nice welcome gift. It looks nice on you, don’t you think?”

Damon felt bile rise in the back of his throat. It wasn’t a gift. It was a brand. A few days ago he had been wearing his own family crest as a mark of status. Now some vampire wanted him to wear hers as a symbol that he belonged to her? He bit back a retort and forced a smile.

“It does,” he replied, wishing the ring would melt off his finger. “Thank you, Ms. Gilbert.”

Elena nodded and returned to her desk. She hadn’t missed the dismay that flashed across his face at her explanation, but she had other purposes for this meeting. She turned and looked Damon up and down, seeming to be evaluating him. What could she possibly want? Did she want him to jump for joy? She stared like she was measuring something. Finally she looked away. “You can go now.”

Damon left the office without a backward glance and rushed back to his cell. What was that about? She definitely didn’t just want to give him a ring. He shook his head, deciding it wasn’t going to be his problem for much longer. He needed to talk to Enzo and get ready to leave. He didn’t have time to worry about what the hell was wrong with her.

\- - - - -

 

“You’re bloody mental. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Damon sighed and rolled his eyes at yet another of Enzo’s warnings, checking that he had everything he needed. “I’m serious Damon. You need to reconsider this half-arsed plan.”

Damon had returned to his cell, and, once all the other doors were closed and they had judged that everyone was asleep, Enzo had immediately set about interrogating him about their earlier conversation. “I found a hidden panel in the wall in the back hallway. It’s right next to Elena’s study. It leads through this tiny secret passage, under the porch, and right to the outside. It’s not even locked!” Enzo had seemed completely unimpressed with Damon’s discover. He had been at the manor for years and had never seen this hidden door, so how was it that Damon, who had been here for all of one day, had found this miraculous secret passage and he hadn’t? Damon had shrugged at that. “Maybe you never looked hard enough. You seem to like it so much, maybe you didn’t really want to leave.”

Enzo had narrowed his eyes at that suggestion. “Believe me Damon, I looked hard enough. I wanted out of here about as much as a person could. And I never found this little secret opening.”

“I had an excuse to look around and a distraction, and I used to be very good at finding hiding places at my old house. It was probably just dumb luck. Look, do you want to get out of here or not?”

Enzo had scowled and shaken his head. Damon gave a noise of frustration, but before he could move to gather his things, Enzo had grabbed him by the arm. “Look, even if your secret hallway really is there, and it’s still open, you’ll still have to get off the grounds, make it through the woods to the highway, and find your way back home. All without Elena hearing your efforts, waking up, and catching you. And then you’ll have to spend the rest of your life hoping and praying they don’t come for you.”

Damon had yanked his arm out of Enzo’s grip. “I am the son of Giuseppe Salvatore,” he hissed. “I am not a slave. I wasn’t sold as one and I certainly wasn’t bred to be one. My brother and my father will be looking for me. All I have to do is get to a phone and they’ll find me, and I can forget this whole nightmare. You can come with me, and get out, or you can stay, but if you keep arguing with me then yeah, she is going to wake up and catch me. So shut it.”

After that, Damon had taken his meager possessions out of the dresser to sort what he would bring with him. He’d hoped that would be the last he’d hear about his doomed plan, but Enzo hadn’t let up, giving warning after warning about how stupid this was. Damon tied some extra clothes, a piece of bread and a knife he had smuggled from dinner, a box of matches and a rag he had scavenged from upstairs, and what little money he had on him when he was taken into a bundle inside one his “new” shirts. He stood dressed in his old clothes and picked up the photo of his girlfriend Katherine that he had managed to hide, running his thumb over her face. I’m coming back to you, he thought, slipping the picture into his pocket. After a brief hesitation, he slipped the ring into his pocket too. Finally, he faced his cellmate.

“I can’t talk you out of this then, can I?”

“Nope.” Damon felt a little sick with what he was about to do, but he had to do it now that he’d said he would.

Enzo sighed. “Then good luck.”

“Thanks.” Damon shook Enzo’s hand and reached for the door. He left his new friend behind and slipped out into the dim hallway.

He rushed up the stone stairs as fast as he could while still avoiding making too much excess noise. The carpet thankfully muffled his steps when he got upstairs, but the twisting halls were even more difficult to navigate in the dark. After what seemed like an eternity, he spotted the door to Elena’s study and grinned, reaching for the wall panel next to it. The dark wood swung silently open and Damon slid inside, softly shutting the door behind him.

The hidden passage was narrow, so that Damon had to turn sideways to shuffle through it, and too dark to see anything in front of him. At one point Damon heard a creaking noise above him and froze, waiting anxiously for the door to fly open and Elena to rip him out, but it never happened. After a long moment, Damon let out a sigh and continued sliding through the secret hallway. When he reached the end he leaned down and crawled underneath the wooden structure he knew was Elena’s wrap around porch. His bruises twinged but he refused to groan, clamping down on the pain. As he slithered across the ground beneath the porch, trying not to make any noise, he felt a strange feeling of elation slowly bubbling up inside him. He realized he was about to be free, really free, and he couldn’t contain the grin that spread onto his face. That dumb cow had really dropped the ball, and Damon would never have to answer to her or her snotty friends again.

Damon pulled himself out from under the porch and stood, brushing dirt and leaves from the front of his tattered shirt. His clothes had definitely seen better days, but they were better than the oversized slave fare, especially on a stealth mission. Damon fought the urge to laugh and instead ran across the lawn toward the woods. He was a little over halfway there when a bone-shattering force slammed into him from behind and knocked him to the ground.

All the air rushed from his lungs as Elena crouched on top of him, her fingers digging harshly into his arms, his face pressed into the dirt. _So fucking close_ , he thought scrunching up his eyes and kicking himself for getting caught. “Someone isn’t where they’re supposed to be,” Elena whispered in his ear, a dark edge in her voice undercutting her words. “Now what do we do about that?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I so can't wait for next chapter. Elena is piiiiiisssssed. And after she gave him that nice ring too.  
> Also, like half this chapter is just foreshadowing (hint hint).


	3. This is Not How I Wanted This Evening To Go

Elena yanked Damon up and off the ground. They were surrounded by rushing wind as Elena raced back through the grounds and into her house, up to the second floor. A second later she dumped Damon down in a tiny room with bare walls. He groaned as his bruises made contact with the floor and turned to look up at her. Elena stood over him, arms crossed. Her head tilted as she considered him with narrowed eyes. “I’m very disappointed in you, Damon.”

Damon rolled his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. “What?” he asked, his voice dripping with acid. “You thought because you said something nice and gave me a pretty little trinket I’d be perfectly fine with handing over my freedom? Are you that stupid?”

Elena’s eyebrows slowly rose and her lips curled into a tight-lipped smile. “No,” she admitted quietly, “but you must be. You were caught in a very poor escape attempt, and then decided to insult the person who could kill you, and now has a reason to. Care to enlighten me on your thought process?”

Damon shrugged. “Can’t really get any worse, can it?”

Elena nodded, the smile slipping from her face. “No. It can’t.”

She lunged forward and caught hold of Damon’s wrist, wrenching him upright so fast he nearly lost his balance. Elena ripped off Damon’s sleeve and he caught sight of her eyes, dark red, almost black, with veins reaching down toward her little neat fangs. “No!” He pulled back involuntarily, his free hand shoving at Elena’s shoulder in vain. She growled and knocked his hand back to his side before sinking her teeth into his wrist. Pain rocketed up Damon’s arm. He tried to shove her again but stopped, the pain reaching into his mind, clouding out all other thoughts. It was like a pair of nails had been driven into his arm, those two needlepoints of agony. His knees grew weak and he grasped at her arm, struggling to stand. Then he felt the first pull. It was like all of his insides swirled together into some abhorrent milkshake and tried to force themselves down his arm and into Elena’s throat. Damon cried out as the insistent tugging reached into his body and ripped it to shreds, forcing the pieces through his veins like his internal organs were being forced through a drinking straw. Elena moaned in pleasure and Damon felt himself being slammed back against the wall of the closet-like room. The pressure in his wrist was building to be unbearable, and then the tugging came again, dragging the blood through him towards Elena. Black spots swam before Damon’s vision and he let out a strangled cry. He couldn’t breathe and there was this horrid emptiness growing inside him, stretching out from the pit of his stomach and swallowing him, all feeling pouring down into the void. He didn’t even notice when his legs gave out and Elena let him fall to the floor.

\- - - - -

 

Elena slowly walked down the hall, not eager to reach her destination. She had to admit, it was partly her fault Damon had even been able to escape. She shouldn’t have left that ridiculous passageway open. She shook her head, grumbling. It wasn’t like she hadn’t warned him though. She had specifically told him not to even try, and you would think after the way he’d been disciplined he wouldn’t be eager to try anything else. She had tried to be nice, offered hospitality, friendship, even a token of her favor. And it wasn’t like her rules were unreasonable. She only took slaves into her manor to keep them from ending up with someone worse. And it was the law after all.

Elena reached the door she had been looking for and unlocked it. Slowly she pushed it open and peered inside, and winced. Damon sagged in the wooden chair in the center of the small closet-like room. His unconscious body was strapped into the seat with leather bindings and his head nodded forward, his curls matted to his forehead with dried sweat. The wooden spikes in the collar around his neck needled his puncture wounds, and blood trailed down to the muddy and torn shirt. Elena stared at her handiwork and listened to his ragged breathing, fighting down the wave of nausea rising from her stomach. And yet, even disgusted, his blood still smelled so good.

 _Someone worse_ echoed bitterly inside her head.

Damon had passed out very early on in the night. Elena had let herself get caught up in her feed. His blood had tasted amazing, like strength and passion and fearlessness. Plus, it was her first taste of warm blood in a fairly long time. After that, she had just intended to give him a scare, something to make sure he’d think twice about disobeying her. She’d never meant to hurt him too badly. Elena bit her lip as she watched Damon’s bloody and unconscious form. Maybe she had gone too far…

\- - - - -

The first thing Damon became aware of was the pain in his neck. He felt like a stinging band was wrapped around his throat, like a headband filled with hot sauce, but then he felt the vicious points within it, sticking and digging into his skin. He blinked open his eyes. It was like there was cotton inside his head. His brain wouldn’t work quite right. He tried to reach for his neck, but his hand was tied down. Panic reached him, drilling through the fog. Frantically he tried to move his arms. There were leather straps wrapped tightly around his wrists but he pulled at them, weakly squirming in his seat. Suddenly pain shot up his right arm and Damon remembered.

He was at Elena’s manor, in some kind of hidden room, because he had tried to escape. Damon shuddered and lifted his head. Once more he became aware of the hard wooden barbs pricking his neck. He remembered clawing his way out of the building and finally feeling free, and then the monster bearing down on him, her fangs digging into his arm  and scraping his insides out.

He swallowed, carefully, testing the collar. He looked up, and saw Elena standing over him, frowning with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Are you okay?” The concern in her voice struck something inside of him in just the wrong way, and he felt his anger rise up.

“Am I okay? Really? What the hell kind of question is that? You bit me, sucked my blood until I passed out, tied me to a chair and wrapped a goddamn torture collar around my neck, and you expect me to believe that you are at all interested in my actual well-being? Fuck off!”

His voice rose, and with every word the collar dug further into his throat, fueling his indignant rage. Elena stiffened, and her expression grew cold.

“Clearly you still don’t get who’s calling the shots here.”

“Oh! How remiss of me! Please feel free to enlighten me, preferably with as much pain as possible!”

“Here’s a hint- the master isn’t the one tied to a chair with blood seeping into their shirt.”

“Not yet, but you watch and see.”

Elena stared at him for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “What was that?” She recovered and leaned in close, her hand next to her ear. “It sounded like you just asked for half portions for a month. Is that what you said, Damon?”

Damon did the only thing he could think of. He spat in Elena’s face.

Elena looked down at him, her face a perfect mask of shock. Then she grabbed his injured wrist and slammed it hard into the arm of the wooden chair. Damon cried out and bent over once more. His wrist pulsed with pain and the spikes dragged at his neck. Elena rubbed fiercely at her face.

“You will apologize,” she ordered shakily, trying to reign in her anger and think clearly.

Damon took a deep breath. “I will not.”

She grabbed his wrist again and ground it into the wood beneath it. “You will.”

Damon choked as the pain snaked its way up his arm. He gritted his teeth. “Not gonna happen.”

She pressed down, harder and harder on his wrist, until black spots swam in front of his eyes and his breaths became shallow. “You will,” she said, her voice quieter now, though to Damon she sounded very far away anyway. His vision narrowed and he tried to focus on anything but the pain flowing from his wrist.

“Fine,” he hissed out, and immediately the pressure on his wrist disappeared. He gasped at the relief and struggled to even out his breathing. Elena crossed her arms. Damon looked up at her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I spat in your face. I’m sorry I threatened you. I’m sorry I insulted you. I’m sorry I tried to run. I’m sorry I haven’t followed every instruction you’ve given me to the very letter and I’m sorry I haven’t acquiesced to you ownership very easily. More than anything, I’m sorry you bought me.”

Elena narrowed her eyes but nodded anyway. She sighed and unlocked the savage collar around Damon’s neck. She knelt and began undoing Damon’s restraints. “You will be confined to your room with two meals a day from now on until I decide otherwise. Ric will escort you to your room. I expect not to hear any more trouble from you.”

With that, Elena left Damon alone.

\- - - - -

“What the hell happened to you?” Damon almost laughed out loud when he heard the british man’s exclamation, but his mirth stopped in its tracks when he actually saw his friend. Damon stepped into the cell, and Ric swung the heavy door closed behind him.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He gestured to Enzo’s brand new bruised eye. “Where did you get that?”

Enzo smirked. “I told you, it’s not wise to get on the nerves of our beautiful overlord. And she doesn’t like it when we don’t tell her about our friends’ ill-fated escape attempts.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Damon tried to wrap his head around Enzo’s meaning. “Are you saying that Elena hit you, because you didn’t turn me in?”

“Yup.”

Damon snarled, all his earlier fear and doubt gone. “I'll kill her!”

“Maybe don’t yell that. We may be in the basement, but as I’m sure you’ve learned, excellent hearing.”

“I don’t care, Enzo. She thinks she can order us around and beat the crap out of us whenever she feels like it…” His hands balled into his fists.

“I hate to break it to you, mate, but she can. We legally belong to her, remember?”

Damon rounded on his cellmate. “Why do you seem so okay with that, Enzo? Why do you defend her? Why do you actually like her?”

Enzo smiled and laid back on his bed, interlocking his fingers as he pondered the question. “There are worse masters. I know you haven’t exactly got off on the right foot with her, but Elena is actually rather kind to us lowly humans. What I don’t understand is your apparent death wish. Was your previous master really so much better than her?”

Damon sat on his bed, across from Enzo. “I didn’t have a previous master.”

Enzo looked at him. “You what?”

“I said, I didn’t have a previous master. I wasn’t bred into this. I lived with my father and my brother, Stefan. I was free. I- I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Enzo sat up and appraised Damon. “How did you get here? Who claimed you?”

“No one!” Damon threw up his hands, all the confusion and frustration of the past few days poured into the gesture. “No one claimed me! I’d never even met a vampire until I woke up in that damned marketplace. I. Was. Free. I’m supposed to be. And I need to get back.”

Enzo stared at him, his face a mixture of longing, concern, and confusion. Finally it all settled into sadness. “You can’t. You can’t escape or get out, not once you’ve been sold, or the Monitors will find you. Believe me, they’ll make our blood cupcake’s worst punishments look like a walk in the park. You don’t want them to find you. I’m sorry, Damon. I don’t think there’s a way out of this.”

Damon lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. “But I have to. I have to get back to my life. I have to get back to her.”

“Her?”

“Katherine.” Just saying her name was enough to send a thrill through Damon’s abused body. His beautiful Katherine. Her smile, the way she could light up a room, her laugh, the glint in her eye, her endless dark curls, the tantalizing way she danced. Every moment with her felt like an adventure, like balancing on the edge of a precipice, but he didn’t mind. He couldn’t. She took control of every room she walked into, every conversation she was in, but he knew he was in good hands in hers. He never knew how much he could miss a person until he’d woken up in this hell. “She’s… she’s amazing. She’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen, and then some. She makes you happy just by being around. I have to get back to her. She probably doesn’t even know what’s happened to me. I just- I have to get back to her.”

Suddenly a thought struck him, a thought that made him utterly nauseous. He dug into his pocket, rummaging for the only possession he had managed to keep. Desperately he plumbed every possible corner of his pocket, pulling it inside out and back again, but it was gone. “That bitch!” He shot to his feet and punched the wall, startling his cellmate.

“Oh, for gods sake, what is it now?”

“She took it! My only picture of Katherine, she took it out of my pocket!”

“Well, you’re not supposed to have anything on you. She was probably surprised you even had it.”

“I don’t care! That was the only picture I have of the girl I love! Oh, that slut is dead. I’ll tear her apart myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... can you guess what happened to poor Damon?  
> I swear Damon and Elena will get along better in some upcoming scenes. You just have to wait a little for it. Remember, its a journey!


	4. Blood and Bourbon

Elena slumped into her seat, letting out a long sigh. Jeremy looked up at her, his big puppy dog eyes searching her face. “What’s wrong?”

Elena gave him a tight smile. “That obvious, huh?”

Jeremy snorted. “Only when you want it to be.”

“Is it Damon?” Ric asked, sitting on the couch next to Jeremy. The three of them had gathered in her third floor living room for the monthly visit Elena had negotiated with her little brother’s release. It hadn’t been easy, but like hell Elena was going to walk around free while her brother still languished in chains for some pair of fangs across town.

“Who’s Damon?” Jeremy asked. Elena waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it, Jer. He’s just this… new acquire who’s giving me trouble. It’s mostly my fault. He tried to escape last night and got halfway to the gate before I even noticed.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ric stopped her. “I should have known he was a flight risk, and locked him in his room. I forgot. I’m so sorry, Elena.”

Jeremy glanced between her and Ric, a troubled look on his face. “What happened to him?”

Elena shifted uncomfortably and looked at the ground. “I, um. I punished him.”

“Did you hurt him?”

The question grated at her internal argument earlier this morning. She’d felt so bad about feeding off of him, and wrapping that disgusting collar around his neck… and then once he woke up she hurt him some more. God, she was really racking up the points here.

Elena became keenly aware of Alaric’s eyes on her. She knew he was waiting to see if she lied to Jeremy or not. Ric always followed her lead and backed her up when it came to taking care of her little brother, but that didn’t mean he would keep quiet later on if he thought she was in the wrong. She couldn’t wait for that argument.

“Jeremy, I’d really rather not talk about this right now.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Jeremy shook his head and sank back into the sofa. “You promised you weren’t going to end up like the rest of them, Elena. How could you punish someone for trying to run away?”

“You don’t understand the danger, Jeremy. You’re still human. You haven’t seen everything we can do.” Elena took a deep breath. “And you know who would have caught him if I hadn’t, and no matter what I did, it’s better than that.” Jeremy just shook his head. Elena pressed on, desperate to convince him. “I’m already taking risks, Jer, breaking rules, and if he had drawn attention to this house, who knows who else would have gotten hurt?”

“Did you try explaining that to him?” Jeremy demanded. “Or did you just see him running and use it as an excuse to sink your teeth in?”

“Jeremy!” Ric cut in, admonishing him.

Elena sat back, stunned. It felt like Jeremy had just slapped her. “I can’t, Jer.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t!”

Elena stood up and stalked over to the window, focusing on the garden outside while she tried to think through her guilt and indignation. After a long moment, she turned back to her stewing little brother.

“Jeremy, please, you have to understand.” Jeremy looked up at her. “This slave, Damon, he has no reason to believe me, no reason to trust me. He already proved that he doesn’t respect my word. In fact, so far he hates me. If he told someone else and they believed him, I’d be in huge trouble. And that means trouble for you, for Ric, for Bonnie, for Enzo and Elijah and Anna and Rose. No, I can’t let that happen. And that means I need to keep everyone in this house under control.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and looked at the floor. “Yeah, whatever.”

“No, not whatever, Jeremy. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I definitely don’t want to hurt the people I’m supposed to be responsible for. But sometimes the only way to get through to someone is to scare them.”

Jeremy looked her in the eyes then, and she didn’t see the resentment she was worried might sit there. All she saw was concern. “I just don’t want you to end up like the rest of them. You’re still my sister. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“Your sister is just trying to keep us all safe,” Ric added. Jeremy looked at him.

“Ask Damon how safe he feels.”

\- - - - -

Damon stared up at the grey concrete ceiling of his cell, trying not to move. His back still ached and his bandaged wrist pulsed with pain. His neck stung like crazy and he was pretty sure those little holes were oozing blood all over his already questionable sheets, but he didn’t feel like doing anything about it. It felt too much like showing weakness, admitting that she had gotten to him, and after last night that was the last thing he wanted to do. He might have to watch his step, but that didn’t mean he would let her think she had won.

Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure there was anything he _could_ do about it.

Damon’s stomach growled. Enzo looked over at him, wary after his earlier outburst, and Damon wondered if Enzo had any food stored away in the tiny room. Actually, Damon was starving, but the metal door was locked from the outside. Besides, he wasn’t interested in slurping down more of that grey crap.

As if responding to his thoughts, the door suddenly swung open. Alaric stood behind it. He turned to Enzo, but his gaze lingered on Damon, as if he couldn’t look away. Damon flicked his eyes toward Ric and then back to the ceiling. He didn’t want to figure out his master’s second in command right now. He just wanted to bleed in peace. Alaric spoke.

“Enzo, time for lunch. You’ll return to work afterwards.”

Enzo nodded and swung up from his cot. The door shut behind the two of them with an unceremonious thud. Enzo watched as Ric locked it.

“Is she just going to starve him then? Leave him down here to rot?”

“Enzo-”

“Alaric. You promised me. I want to believe she has her reasons, but look at him. He looks like he’s had a day with Wes.”

“She’s doing her best.” But Ric looked doubtful.

“You call that her best?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me Damon is making this easy.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me he’s supposed to.”

Alaric turned away with a weary sigh. “I’ll talk to her. She is different, you know that. There’s just not a lot she can do.”

Enzo watched the back of Ric’s head as they walked up the stairs. For a second he debated telling him about Damon’s ‘freeborn’ status, but he quickly dismissed it.It might not mean anything, just that Damon was sold to settle some kind of debt instead of bred. Besides, Ric would tell Elena, and Enzo couldn’t be sure how she’d react.  He knew his friend genuinely believed in Elena, but honestly, Enzo couldn’t see it. He didn’t see anything wrong with her, either, until recent events, but she would always be another vampire. One who didn’t use him as a walking bloodbag or beat him or slice him up on a daily basis, but even so. It didn’t make her a saint.

Alaric stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. “Just promise me you’ll keep trying to persuade him.”

Enzo shrugged. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m going to need more than ‘trust me, she’s not always like this’ if you want him to look past the bruises.”

“Try showing him the room.”

“Honestly? I thought that was a second week honor.”

“I think we can make an exception.” Ric glanced at the clock on the oven. “Dammit, I have to go. Thanks, Enzo. Seriously.”

Enzo shrugged again, and sat down to his tasteless dinner.

\- - - - -

Elena sat, hunched in her chair, chin resting on her desk, and stared hard at the ring in front of her. She felt like she must’ve been staring at it for hours. It looked fairly ordinary, albeit ancient, but she still couldn’t understand why her father had been so adamant about leaving it to her. He’d left a similar one to Jeremy, and she’d had to fight pretty hard to let him keep it. She’d gotten sick enough of the mystery that she’d decided to give it to Damon, and that hadn’t exactly worked out. The rest of the things he’d decided to take with him on his ill-fated break out attempt sat bundled on the edge of her desk, unopened.

She wasn’t sure why she’d given it to Damon, since he obviously didn’t appreciate it, but there was something about him. She wanted him to like her, to look at her and see a human, not a cold-hearted arrogant bitch. Oh, who was she kidding? She didn't want to _seem_ human, she wanted to _be_ human again. She felt like every year chipped away a little more of the Elena she’d been in her parents’ house. Maybe that’s what happened to every vampire. Maybe that’s why the older ones could be so violent and unaffected.

_I’m free now_ , she reminded herself. _It’s better this way. This way I can help people._

Elijah cleared his throat rather pointedly. Elena sat up. She’d almost forgotten he was in the room. “I’m sorry, Elijah. Please continue.”

Elijah nodded in that short, polite way of his. “Rose’s fever has broken. She’s ready to return to the garden. Your friend Bonnie Bennett returned your call earlier today. She said she’d look into the ‘security’ you asked for, but she would have to research it to be sure it could work. Caroline Forbes also called. She would like to have dinner with you soon, along with Matt Donovan and Tyler Lockwood.” Elena groaned. That was Caroline code for “I’m coming over to your house soon with a bunch of friends and you’re going to enjoy it.”

Elijah shifted uncomfortably and she looked up at him. There was something uncertain about his voice and the way he was glancing around. Elijah never looked uncertain. “Elijah, tell me what’s wrong.”

He shifted his gaze once again. “I know it is not my place, but I would appreciate it if you would acquiesce to Caroline’s invitation. She and Matt Donovan would likely bring their personal slaves, my younger brother and sister, Niklaus and Rebekah.”

Elena smiled. He wanted to see his family. She could understand that. “Of course, Elijah. Never hesitate to come to me with a concern about your family. I’ll invite them immediately.”

Elijah nodded quickly and continued. “There was news in town about Anna’s mother Pearl-”

The heavy wooden door to Elena’s office creaked open and Alaric walked in.

“Ric!” Elena shot up. “Is he okay? How does he look?”

Alaric shot a pained glance at Elijah. "It's okay, Ric," Elena reassured him. "You can speak."

"I am bound to keep our master's secrets," Elijah reminded him.

Ric sighed. “He’s not good, Elena. I don’t think he’s moved in a while and he’s still bleeding. His skin is gray and those puncture wounds look like they could easily get infected. You need to do something.”

Elena winced. “I may have been a little rough with him.”

Ric’s expression went positively stormy at that, but he didn’t say anything. Elijah pursed his lips. “Perhaps I should return later.”

Elena shook her head. “No, finish up Elijah. Something about Anna?”

“Yes. I’m afraid Anna’s mother Pearl was discovered attempting to escape while her master was out. It seems John Gilbert had her killed.”

\- - - - -

Damon was startled awake by the sound of a slamming door. He sat up despite the protests of his twinging neck. Enzo stood at the foot of his bed, his hands behind his back.

"Has Sleeping Beauty returned to the land of the living?"

Damon reached up and touched his neck gently. His fingers grazed the punctures, and he winced as a hot spike of pain lanced through him. At least they had stopped bleeding.

"Not quite, but I might be getting there."

Enzo smirked. Damon was beginning to believe that was his default facial expression. "Well, I brought you something special to help with that." He pulled his hands out to reveal a bottle of amber liquid. "Or maybe put you right back out."

Damon stared at him. "Is that bourbon?"

"Yep."

Damon grinned. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

He sat up as Enzo plunked down the bottle between them and pulled out two glasses. Enzo filled and handed him one, then poured another for himself. Damon swirled his glass, loving the light reflecting off the best thing to happen to him in the past two days, before downing the whole thing. The burn as it slid down his throat was comforting, a familiar pain among a chorus of new aches.

Hours later the bourbon was down to the last dregs. Damon pouted at the bottle and tilted it upside down, trying to coax the last few drops out into his glass. Enzo laughed at him. He looked up at his friend, tremendously indignant. "What?"

Enzo pointed at him. "You're a drunk!"

"What? I am not!"

"You have to be."

"Why?"

"How'd you down that much that fast? Never. I've never seen some someone down that so fast. So much. "

"The hell are you talking about?"

Enzo rubbed his eyes. His grin was razor sharp. "We could swipe more."

Damon squinted at him. "Wait." He held up the empty glass bottle. "Where did this... where'd you even get this?"

Enzo sniffed and leaned back. "Our darling dear E-Le-Na has a private stash. All hers." His voice lilted over her name, drawing it out.

Damon felt a warmth growing beneath his chest, a flickering flame that had nothing to do with the alcohol he had consumed. "She does," he muttered. "Of course she does. All hers. Everything is hers. She has everything."

"What's that?" Damon shoved himself up off his cot and stumbled, catching himself on the door. Enzo looked up at him. "Where you going?"

Damon's smile was brittle and cold. "To tell her what she doesn't have."

"You're leaving me?"

The pleading tone in Enzo's voice made Damon falter. He turned back. His friend looked so small, his eyes widened as he watched Damon with barely concealed fear.

Damon waved him off. "I'll be back."

But as he trudged down the hall, his thoughts wandered back to the ring of bloody holes in his neck the bandage on his wrist. _Maybe I won't._

_\- - - - -_

Elena sighed as she unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it on the bed. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day. She just hoped Jeremy didn't hate her now. And Anna... she would have to tell her soon. Anna deserved to know. 

After Jesse, she had hoped to put in a few weeks of peace, but instead, she got a walking reminder of how much the ruthless vampire she could be. Truth be told, she couldn't even blame Damon. He didn't know her, and she could still remember how she had felt being shipped off to her first master. Elena shivered. She'd vowed never to become that cold and vicious. She just hoped she was keeping that promise.

Elena reached for the pajamas she had laid out, a soft pair of striped shorts and a tanktop. She'd figured out why Jeremy's words had hit her so hard. He wasn't the only one who worried about her losing her humanity. When she had brought these concerns to Ric, he had reassured her that she was one of the strongest people he knew, compassionate and moral despite her difficult circumstances. Caroline had told her that her doubts were typical of a new vampire and nothing to be worried about, and that they would disappear after a few more years. Elena didn't know what scared her more; that her friend was wrong, or that she wasn't. It was obvious what Elijah thought about her, and Bonnie wouldn't even be her friend if she didn't agree. But how could she accept that when things like Jesse and Damon kept happening?

Elena became aware of footsteps heading toward her door. She frowned and listened closer. Whoever was approaching was staggering down the hall, and they reeked of alcohol. Who the hell-

Oh. 

She caught the scent of blood and dirt before she heard him pounding on the door. Ric was right, those wounds were begging for infection. _How'd he even find my room?_ she wondered as she hurriedly pulled her tanktop on. She had an unpleasant image of him stumbling into every room on the third floor until he found hers. 

Elena opened the door and Damon practically fell into her bedroom. She stared as he tried to right himself. Slaves weren't allowed alcohol, and that was one of the rules she did follow.  So where'd he find the bourbon? And what was he doing here? God, she had too much to think about to deal with a drunk slave.

Elena flinched. No. That was wrong. Damon was a person. She had to deal with him. She would take care of this.

" _You_." Damon glared at her with utter loathing, one arm flung out to point at her. 

"Return to you room, Damon."

"You call that a room?" he spat. "Those closets aren't good enough for rats. I've slept on barstools more comfortable."

Elena wrinkled her nose. "I believe it."

"We get to freeze in the cold, and the damp, in concrete cages, while you! You get this!" He gestured wildly at her king-sized four poster bed and swayed on his feet.

"Damon," Elena repeated calmly, "get out of my room. It won't be pleasant for you if you stay."

Damon's laugh was bitter and hard-edged. His skin was alarmingly gray, leaving his snarl more pronounced. "Oh! It won't be pleasant. Wow, I can't imagine that. It's not like- Because its so pleasant right now. It's not like my neck is burning and I can barely feel my wrist anymore. No, that wouldn't be pleasant." He shoved the offending hand toward her. "But you don't care. You just want things to be pleasant. You're just another arrogant monster, and you have everyone here brain washed, or compelled, but not me. _I see you_."  He swayed again.

"Damon!" Elena gritted her teeth, fighting to keep her voice even. "If you return to your room right now, I will pretend this never happened. Leave. Pl- Now." _I can't ask,_  she reminded herself. _I can't give_.

"You'd like that. If I just followed orders, obeyed my master like a..." Elena took a deep breath, trying to control her temper as Damon continued his tirade. "Like a good little lapdog. Like Al... Alric. But guess what? Bitch?" 

Elena closed her eyes. She should just knock him out. But she needed him to do what she said. He needed to listen.  "Damon-" 

Damon pointed at her again, his features a mask of unbridled hatred. "I don't take orders from heartless bloodsluts."

The back of Elena's hand cracked across Damon's cheek. She smacked him so hard his body was flung across the room, hitting the opposite wall with a sickening thud. The metallic smell of fresh blood filled the room. Elena looked down at her hand. She didn't feel a thing, not even an echo of the slap. How many times had they done this?

Damon cursed softly and struggled to push himself upright. _Make something good out of it_. "Are you ready to return to you room now?" she growled.

Damon blinked at her, his eyes unfocused. His pallid gray skin highlighted the bright red slash from her ring and the darker pool now dripping down the side of his head, seeping into his hair. _Shit_. Elena grabbed Damon by the collar and hauled him to his feet. His heart was hammering in his chest, and it shot into overdrive when she touched him. "Why the hell would you get drunk with this much bloodloss!?"

Damon muttered something incoherent, his pupils still dilated, eyes staring at nothing. Fuck. He was going to die right here in this room. She'd killed him. She'd beaten him into unconsciousness and killed him. 

Like hell.

Elena bared her fangs just as Damon's vision came back into focus. He let out a wordless cry and heaved himself backwards, toppling onto the floor. "Stop making this so hard," she hissed, biting her own wrist and ripping open her veins.  The smell of her own blood invaded her senses as Damon tried to scramble away from her. Elena was at his side in a second. She grabbed him by the hair as Damon pushed ineffectively against her chest. Elena pressed the gash in her wrist against Damon's cold lips as he weakly mumbled a protest. "Drink," she ordered. For once, Damon listened to her. 

\- - - - -

Elena dabbed the wet cloth softly against Damon's pale skin, wiping away layers of dirt and sweat. His breaths were quiet, but even, and his head lolled against his chest, eyes closed. She sat back and looked at him.  The ragged shirt he wore looked strange against his now clean and newly healed skin, but she didn't have any clothes in her own room to give him. For the first time, she was struck by how handsome he really was. The planes of his face melded perfectly, his skin was clear and smooth, and his hair looked remarkably soft. Without the rage and disgust etched into his features, his face had lost its cutting edge. He looked almost... vulnerable. Innocent. 

She felt a pang of protectiveness for this lost, angry boy. She was responsible for him now. She needed to be more aware, to make sure situations like this never happened again. She wasn't at the Petrova household anymore, blithely following orders, life oriented around survival. Now there were people she had to take care of.

Elena leaned forward and scooped Damon into her arms. The hall lights flickered over his form as she carried him down the hall, cradled against her chest. He was a bit lighter than she expected, and Elena was reminded that he wasn't eating well. She would get Ric to see about that. Hopefully, Damon actually liked Ric. 

Elena slipped down the stairs to the basement, carefully keeping Damon's head from hitting the doorway on the way down. It had been jostled enough over the past few days. She stepped lightly into his room and laid him down on his bed. She kneeled down and tugged the covers over him gently, trying not to wake him.

She turned around and jerked back in surprise. Enzo was sitting up in his bed, watching her with red-rimmed eyes. Elena pressed her lips together and tried to think of something to say. She noted the empty bottle of her bourbon in front of him, as well as the two glasses, and tried to inject as much haughtiness and indifference into her stare as she could. It was no use. Enzo held her gaze, not moving or speaking. 

Finally, Elena gave him a curt nod. With one backward glance at Damon sleeping peacefully, she headed back to her room.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of pointing in this chapter. I just want to say that all of this is only edited in the loosest sense of the word. I don't have a beta, so I'm mostly going off what I catch myself.
> 
> As for the story, here you get to see more of Elena's deep-seated insecurities! Yay! I also added a couple more characters, and they're not the end of it. I got a lot of stuff to get into this story.   
> The dynamic is going to be a little different too. There will be a lot more of Elena protecting Damon, and Damon will slowly learn not to hate her, which is like the opposite of the show.


	5. Man of my Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a long time since I've updated. I'm so sorry. At first it was computer troubles, and then I had a really busy Halloween, and November has pretty much been college application devoted. I recently got a little bit of time just to write, and I'm really glad I got this chapter out, even if it took forever. Part of what kept me going was all the positive feedback I've gotten on this fic. Thank you so much for any comments or Kudos. It means a lot to me. I just want you to know that I'm not giving up on this fic. I swear, even if it takes me 50 years, I will write every chapter from start to finish.

"Elena." The voice echoed all around her. Bright blue eyes pierced through the darkness around her. Elena found herself running towards them, desperate to find some comfort in them, only to be stopped as she watched the light wither. He was in front of her, collapsing, and it was all Elena could do to catch him. His skin was pallid and sweaty and cold, those once brilliant eyes now faded and closed. "No, stop. Please," she sobbed, desperate for him to return to her. She clutched at his shoulders, holding him close to her, clinging to his body. She placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her, and his eyes opened.

They weren't his eyes.

Cruelty stared back at her from chocolate-brown windows, and it was no longer Damon in her arms. A hand collided with her cheek and Elena was on the floor. She curled up, blood on her pretty blue dress, and tried to stifle her cries. "Useless. Always crying. Why would we need you, Elena?" The words reverberated through her body, pounding into her skull. "Goodbye, Elena."

The room flooded with sunlight and Elena opened her eyes. She panicked for a few seconds before she remembered where she was. There were pillows and blankets piled high around her. She was in bed. "Is everything alright, Elena?" Elena flicked her eyes to the right and found Elijah standing by the windows. She looked back at her ceiling and tried to clear the haze left from her dream.

"I... yes, Elijah. I'm fine, thank you." Taking a deep breath, Elena sat up and looked around the room. Elijah had finished pulling back the curtains and stood at the foot of her bed.

"Shall I fetch your breakfast?" he asked. Elena nodded, dismissing him, and got out of bed. She moved into her bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping to wash away yet another troubling dream. They had started the night she had healed Damon. The dreams weren't always the same, but they all had the same elements. She turned her face into the spray thankfully, letting the water pour over her tear-stained face, washing away the last remnants of her nightmare. She wasn't sure how well she could take another walk down memory lane.

After her shower, Elena wrapped herself in a robe and stepped out of the bathroom. Her breakfast was cooling in a tray on her table. A paper sat folded neatly on top of it, her name penned in Elijah's elegant hand. She tore open the envelope and groaned. It was the invitation to her dinner party that she'd sent out. It was in a few days. She would have to prepare. And if she was going to have a Monitor at her table, there was someone she needed to talk to.

\- - - - -

The first morning after his drunken misadventure, Damon was entirely on edge. He had to stop every two seconds to look behind him, and when Enzo clapped him on the shoulder he shot six feet into the air. At lunch he scarfed down his food as fast as he could without tasting it (thank god) and spent the rest of the time with his back pressed against the wall, watching. Even when he tried to go to sleep, he ended up staring at the door, muscles tensed, until exhaustion dragged him into a strained and shallow rest. His dreams were always confusing and strange.

He'd had the same dream since that night. He was always held up by strong arms, fingers gently stroking his hair. The room was warm, but growing colder, and his vision was fuzzy enough to be nonexistent. He could hear his  heartbeat, loud in his ears, slowing down... and then a voice, like the sweetest music, murmuring encouragement and pulling him out of his daze. There was something warm pressed against his mouth, insistently pushing against his lips, and when he opened them, hot liquid filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. The taste of it was harsh and acidic, burning his tongue. He wanted to stop it, but his heart started to pick up, beating louder, faster, warmth flooding back into his veins and he could breathe and he could feel and... and he woke up.

He stayed on his guard, day and night, glancing around when he walked in a room, hesitating around corners, holding his breath when he saw Ric. He was always listening, waiting to hear her coming for him. Damon splashed water onto his face and looked into the dingy mirror of the communal mirror. There were gray smudges under his eyes, adding to his new haggard look. Was she torturing him? Was she waiting for him to crack? He stared into his own pale blue eyes, scouring them for a hidden meaning to her behavior. He knew she wasn't going to let his behavior slide. Maybe she was going to surprise him, appear from behind a door and drag him away. Maybe she would attack him in his sleep. Maybe she would get him during lunch. Maybe she- He looked like a crazy person, didn't he?

Damon glanced around the bathroom, hoping no one had witnessed his brief moment of insanity. That's it. This had to end. He dried his face with a towel and pushed into the hallway, heading past his cell and up the stairs. He walked down the halls until he saw it. The dark heavy door, innocuous, tucked away in its corner of the manor, the same door Damon had been dragged to his first night in hell, stood before him. He noticed the tiny passage he'd tried to escape through right next to it, and his neck gave a twinge in memory. Damon steeled himself and reached for the door. 

Before his hand even touched the polished wood he heard voices from inside. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in close and listened in, and was surprised to hear a young girl.

"He killed her. John Gilbert, he..."

"I know, Anna. I'm so sorry." It was Elena.

"You're sorry? That's helpful, thank you. I'm so glad you're sorry. So. Happy. That you're sorry. That makes everything okay!"

"It doesn't have to be okay. It's not going to be okay for a long time. It might never be okay, Anna."

"I didn't get to see her. I hadn't seen her for so long. And now I'm never going to see her again. She's gone. I don't know what to do. What do I do?" The girl's voice was lost to her sobs as she choked on the last words. There was a rustling sound and he heard Elena saying something too softly for Damon to hear. He backed up, away from the door. This was not the time.

He edged back down the hall, trying not to think too hard about what he'd just heard. And failing. It puzzled him. Elena was not soft or kind. Her hard edges couldn't accommodate the kind of compassion necessary to comfort someone in their grief. And yet, she'd spoken so gently. He couldn't imagine someone who spoke like that hurting anyone.

Damon stopped short. No. He was not going soft on Elena Gilbert. Not after what she'd done to him. That devil woman had bought him, imprisoned him, torn him apart, sucked his blood, and now she was psychologically tormenting him. She was probably feigning interest in one of her vampy friends' problems. The voice wasn't nearly bitchy enough to be Caroline's, but maybe she had some other fanged vixens to spend her days with. A girl who sounded young, but was really as ancient and cold as the rest of them. That made much more sense.

Damon headed back to lunch, hoping to finish in the time he had left. Alaric had appeared at his door the first morning after his drunken escapade, tossed some clothes at him, and ordered him to his work. He doubted he'd ever get used to the food, but surprisingly he was getting used to the routines. He looked down at the welts on his hands and grimaced. If he stayed here for much longer he would absolutely ruin his skin. He'd have a worker's hands for life. He could already imagine what his father would say to that.

Damon's thoughts wandered once again to the conversation in Elena's office. He didn't actually believe Elena was faking her concern. Though he'd only heard part of the conversation, she'd seemed sincere. He was still sure she'd been talking to a vampiric friend though, and he couldn't bring himself to care about one of their problems. He just couldn't get her voice out of his head. It was soothing and caring. It matched the voice in his dream. He didn't want to believe Elena was anything but a cruel, entitled bloodsucker, but obviously there was something more to her. It didn't mean she wasn't also a cruel, entitled bloodsucker. He'd have to remember that.

Damon entered the kitchen and sat down to "lunch" with Enzo. 

"Where've you been, mate?"

Damon smiled. "Just had something to take care of."

"Only been here a week, and you already have private business? You're moving fast."

Damon looked at Enzo, debating whether he should bring up what he'd witnessed. Enzo seemed fairly "Pro-Elena," albeit less so after his mismanaged escape attempt. But Enzo probably knew more about Elena's friends than he did. 

Just before he could open his mouth, a young girl walked into the kitchen. Damon recognized her as one of the other ten or so slaves he occasionally saw while working. Twice he'd seen her carrying linens to the laundry. She walked past Damon and Enzo to the counter and picked up one of the bowls of muck.

"Anna." The girl looked up at Enzo's voice. Damon's head snapped up and he looked harder at the girl. Her face was expressionless but her eyes were red and puffy. "Haven't seen you around in a while. I was beginning to think you were avoiding all your lovely friends."

Enzo smiled at her. Anna stared blankly at him. "Elena gave me the day off." Her voice was softer and less passionate, but it was definitely the girl from Elena's office. 

"For four days?" Enzo asked. 

Anna nodded. "I needed them."

She started to walk out of the room, but Enzo called after her. She turned to him. "Don't forget your friends, Anna. We're always here for you." She nodded again and headed down to the basement. Damon stared at the doorway where she'd left. It just didn't make any sense. 

Another day passed and this time Anna stayed in her room completely. As Damon washed his face in the trough-like sink, he saw Rose walking down the stairs on the other side of the hall, carrying a tray of food. Not gruel, but real food. Rose carried it straight into hers and Anna's room. Damon's eyes narrowed. He didn't know what was up, but he was going to find out.

\- - - - -

Elena sat in front of her vanity and pulled out her journal. She'd had another dream the night before, and this one had gone in an entirely different direction.

It had started off nearly the same. She was running towards Damon, then holding him as the light disappeared from his eyes. As she began to cry, she felt a gentle hand on her cheek,  and when she looked down, Damon was staring at her with those startling blue eyes. There was something in those blue eyes, something different, and she found herself transfixed. She leaned down closer. The second her lips brushed over his, she was gone, lost in the sensations of his lips melding to hers, his touch, and warm messy contact. His fingers tangled in her hair, his tongue slid over hers, and every nerve in her body felt hypersensitive. 

Her body was singing. And then his body began to... melt. His skin became elastic and pliable, turning into putty beneath her fingers. Her hands sank into the mud-like remains of his torso, becoming trapped in the stinking muck. His tongue turned to sludge in her mouth, pouring down her throat, choking her. She couldn't scream. Elena could no longer see as the slime covered her. It closed out the light, sliding over her entire body, filling her nose and ears and invading her eyes, encasing her completely. And then she woke up.

Elena shuddered, clutching her pen. There was definitely something going on with these dreams. She had to make them stop. Tomorrow at her dinner party she would tell Bonnie about it. She would know what to do. 

Elena heard someone approaching her room. She paused, pen in her hand, and cocked her head to listen. The heavy gait suggested male; the stride said purpose. It couldn't be Alaric or Elijah. Elena closed her journal and hurriedly slipped it into a drawer. The footsteps came to a stop outside her door. She opened her jewelry box and pulled it close to her just as the door to her room opened. She was surprised to see Damon in the mirror, standing just outside the door, watching her. Elena fiddled with a necklace and debated with herself over calling him in to talk, sending him away, or just pretending she didn't see him and waiting for him to leave. Elena's skin turned hot as she realized where his eyes were roving. Her tanktop revealed most of her chest and back and was razor thin, clinging to her skin. And here was Damon, staring at her.

"Damon." He jumped half a foot in the air. She could take pleasure in that. Her voice had surprised even her. She just knew she had to get him to stop staring at her. "I assume you came to my rooms to help me dress for the day?"

He hesitated for a second. Just long enough for Elena to think _What the hell did I just do?_ before Damon was stepping into the room and she was holding out her necklace for him. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her. Elena suppressed a shiver as Damon parted her hair like a curtain. He slipped the chain around her neck, fingers trailing slowly over her skin, and there was nothing Elena could do about the hot flush creeping up her neck.

Damon chuckled. "The all-powerful vampire master can't put on her own necklace?" Elena laughed sheepishly and saw Damon smile in the mirror. That was nice. Maybe if she could make him smile, they would have less trouble. Then she stopped.

The picture in the mirror was a pretty young girl, with big brown eyes, and a gorgeous man standing behind her, protective and imposing. They looked happy. They might have been a couple, getting ready for bed or another day in their nice pretty house. The picture was so far from the truth that it slammed into her, knocking her back to reality. "That's enough!" she snapped at Damon, standing up. He took a step back.

"What do you want, Damon? We both know you aren't here to offer any help." _Stay on guard_  she reminded herself. _Especially with him_. 

Damon scowled, his expression closed off. "I need to have a word with you."

"I have an office," Elena reminded him imperiously. She brushed past him toward the bed and pulled on her dressing gown, chastising herself for her moment of weakness. Damon hated her. She needed him to at least fear her if things were going to go smoothly, and that wasn't going to happen if he saw her vulnerable. 

"Oh yes, and I have so much free time to visit."

"If you got your work done quickly enough you'd have more free time. Besides, you're here now." She glanced at the clock. "When you should be in your room."

Damon scoffed. "My room. Why don't you call it what it is? A cell."

Elena straightened and looked her slave in the eye. "Is that what you came here for? To complain about your accommodations?"

"I came here because I want to know what the hell you're playing at."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean! With Anna? Why don't you drop the whole 'shoulder to cry on' act? What are you trying to get from her? And just now! The necklace thing? What was that? And why haven't you said anything about that night? You know what I'm talking about. Why don't you just attack me, beat me, tear off one of my arms, and get it over with? Why are you playing with my head?"

Elena stared at him. "Damon-"

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Don't lie to me! Don't you dare lie to me! What did you do to me? Why don't I remember?"

Elena tore his arms off her and shoved him roughly away. He stumbled back and hit the wall. She cursed under her breath. _You promised Jeremy. No more force_. She grabbed Damon's collar and hauled him up. He was taller than her, so she had to strain to lift him above her, but she managed. It had the desired effect. Damon stared down at her with genuine fear in her eyes. Good. 

"Go back to work, Damon. _Now_. You will never come to my rooms on your own again. The last time, I hit you and I healed you. The next time you return without permission or an expressed invitation, I will tear away the skin on your arms, then heal you, then do it again, until I can be sure this won't happen again. Understood?"

Damon swallowed and nodded. Elena lowered him to the ground and glared at him as he scrambled for the door. He opened it to go, and one more thought occurred to her. 

"Damon!" He looked back at her. "For the next three days you are restricted to one meal a day."

\- - - - -

"What!?"

Elena shrank back from Alaric's harsh look. "Didn't you just tell me to make sure he ate enough? Now you want me to stop him from eating?"

Elena sighed. "He came into my room and pretty much attacked me, Ric. I had to do something."

"Didn't you promise Jeremy that you would go easier on him?"

"I promised Jeremy I wouldn't get physical with him. This way, Damon knows the boundaries without getting hurt."

Ric looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure that's the reason you're doing this Elena? I've never seen you act this way before."

Elena took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Yes, I'm sure Ric. I just need Damon to follow my rules."

\- - - - -

Damon scrubbed angrily at the floor, trying to punish the floorboards with each stroke. How could he have been so weak? He went to her room to demand some answers. Instead he was nearly seduced by his _fucking owner_ , who then choked him and threatened to skin him. And now she was starving him. She must really hate him. Of course. That fanged bitch hated him for not blindly following her rules. As if it was right for her to treat him the way she did, like he was some kind of disobedient dog. Worse than that, even. He'd never seen anyone treat their dog like this.

And worse than all of that, here he was. His stomach was about to digest itself, and all he was doing about it was exactly what she'd told him to do. He'd fallen for all of her traps, and then run out of her room with his tail between his legs. If Giuseppe Salvatore had witnessed that scene, Damon would have bruises on more than his ego right now. 

Damon stopped scrubbing. He was Giuseppe Salvatore's son. He did not wash floors. He did not meekly run away, or starve into nothingness. He did not take orders from monsters or women, and definitely not both.

Damon stood up and walked toward the servant stairway. Then he thought better of it. Damon turned around, and walked down the main stairway. If one of Elena's friends caught him, she would answer for it, not him. A tiny part of Damon's mind told him that he would answer for it too, but he ignored it. He walked through the main hall, past the front door, and into the kitchen. His heart in his throat, Damon opened the pantry and began to pull out ingredients. He searched through the cabinets and took down a few pans. Finally he set to work.

Within half an hour, Damon had a steaming plate of pasta and meat sauce. The heavenly smell filled the room and Damon's stomach grumbled loudly. He hastily searched for a fork. God, it had been forever since he'd had real food. He felt an urgent need to actually taste something, something that wasn't gray. He finally hit the jackpot and slammed open the silverware drawer.

He dug into the pasta, and hesitated. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was afraid of her. She could hear or smell what he was doing, barge down here and tear his head off without a second thought. No. She wouldn't. Or did he just hope she wouldn't? All the same, he better eat fast.

Damon swallowed the first forkful and actually moaned. Out loud. The sauce was delicious, the texture was exactly right, and it felt great to chew something that wasn't goo. He thought he might faint. He shoveled more into his mouth, desperate to finish before he could be stopped. No such luck.

He was sprawled on the kitchen floor before he even knew what was happening. Elena stood over him, livid. "What the hell are you doing?"

Damon glared at her. "Eating."

Elena ground her teeth. She gave Damon a smile so brittle it could snap at any second. "Did I tell you that you could eat?"

Damon returned her smile with one just as acidic. "I didn't ask."

Elena's smile dropped and she grimaced. "No, Damon, you don't ask. And that's a problem."

Damon rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Well, you know me. I hate to be a burden. So, what are you going to do to me this time?"

He raised his eyebrows. Elena's eyes darkened. "If you won't ask to eat," she said quietly, "neither will I."

Damon's eyes widened a split-second before her arms clamped down around him. She jerked his head back, baring his neck, and plunged her fangs in.

Damon screamed. Searing pain sliced through his neck and coursed though his veins. Elena moaned as hot blood hit her tongue, shifting her grip to hold him better. He hissed in pain. Every movement ripped his skin a little more where her fangs had pierced him. Then the slow, agonizing pull began, the same as before, dragging through his body. Damon whimpered. A wave of embarrassment crashed over him. The pain wasn't enough, now she had to humiliate him too? She continued to drink, taking deep swallows of his blood. Damon couldn't take it anymore. "Please," he begged, "please stop... no more... I... I'm sorry."

Elena tore her fangs free of his neck, and Damon cried out and crashed to his knees. He lay panting on the floor for a few moments. Elena reached for him and he flinched, but she only lifted him to his feet. Damon avoided her gaze.

"Go back to your 'cell,'" she commanded. "You're confined there for the rest of the day. Since you had lunch, you'll be skipping dinner. Go."

Damon glanced at her. Her eyes were still bright red, and her chin was smeared with her blood. He scurried out of the room.

\- - - - -

Elena watched until he was gone, and collapsed into a chair. That definitely could have gone better. First, so much for her "No Force" resolve. That had certainly lasted. No matter what she did, Damon threw it in her face. Maybe she should just give him up, sell him off to someone who could handle him. He was handsome, able-bodied, talented. He'd sell fast. She had tried. She had done her best and he hadn't listened. He wouldn't.

But had she? Did she really try her best? The first thing she had done was attack him. More than that she had sucked his blood. Half the horror was that she couldn't tell if she had done it to punish him, or because she had really wanted to. All her insistence that she was different, her promises to keep her humanity, and the second it got hard she tossed it all and became a monster.

And that's what she was to Damon, wasn't she? She'd wanted him to fear her, and she'd succeeded. He was scared of her, that much she could see, but he also hated her. He would never let himself fall in her line as long as he hated her. She needed to do better. Damon certainly wasn't going to. If he had even a third of the resolve she'd had with her master, he'd be giving her hell for a while.

If she wanted him to listen to her she had to give him a reason to. She would have to control herself from now on. Elena had made promises, and she intended to keep them.

Elena stood and picked up Damon's plate. It really did smell amazing. It was hard to believe that the slave with the sloppiest work had made such appetizing food, especially in the short amount of time that he had. Elena glanced around the room. She picked up the fork and considered it. As long as no one was looking...

She brought the fork to her mouth and tentatively took a bite. Her eyes widened and she swallowed, quickly devouring the rest of the forkful. It was amazing. The noodles were perfect, and the sauce was exquisite. Elena looked down at the plate. Could Damon really have made this in such a short time? What could he do given a real chance to prepare something?

 Elena knew exactly what her first step toward "better" would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Elena in this chapter. You will definitely be getting more Damon later on. And I promise that their interactions get better. It's a slow burn, but it's worth it (I hope). Next chapter you'll get to meet a lot of Elena's friends. And Giuseppe will eventually be making his appearance, just to damage Damon even more. Speaking of, Damon's misogyny is quickly becoming more apparent. It feels really icky to write it, but it is part of his character in this fic. Don't worry. Elena will fix him. :)


End file.
